Into the Fire
by theallwymonster
Summary: Hermione was surprised to see Draco Malfoy, the sole person the wizarding world was certain was dead, living in the Muggle world. Tension rises between them after a tragedy struck her, forcing her to stay at his house for a period of time. But there's more to his defection than it seems, and she's about to get her way to find out what it is.


**A/N: Are you a fan of Dramione? Cool, me too! It's been a while since I've written something. Can't wait to know what people would think of this! This chapter is dedicated to OogieBoogie, for being a great support. **

**This story will contain adult themes. Expect Harry in a clown suit and a singing Ron ;) **

**Set in 2007.**

**P.S If you're looking for a light-hearted Dramione fic, go to OogieBoogie's page. You won't regret it.**

**~.~**

He sighed. It's been quite a while since he had been here, but everything still seemed the same to him. The calm ripples of the large lake, the way the trees appeared to surround said lake like a fencing guard, the benches aligned in a neat line, each had a huge gap in between; the park is a definite place for a getaway, especially after a hard week worth of work.

He walked ahead, breathing in the calming scent of trees as he passed them, hands in pockets with a serene look on his face. He closed his eyes; this is much better than the noises of the traffic by the city. He took his time to enjoy this day that he had been deprived from; a day of stress-free. He revelled at the laughter of children running around by the grass, the soft sounds of birds chirping by the trees, the–

_SMACK!_

He recoiled with a cry. The running children stopped and turned around to the sound of his cry. They laughed at his misfortune as he clumsily tried to regain his footing, which was lost when that thing hit his nose. He swore and groaned at the pain, his nose pounding achingly by the bridge. He looked up and glared at the children, and they immediately halt their laughter. He didn't do anything else, because a mere eyebrow raise had sent them off, scurrying somewhere, further away from him.

Still pinching his nose to ease the pain, he searched for the falling object. It can't be a stone, as the thing was too soft to be one. It can't be a leaf either, or his nose wouldn't be swelling by now. He squint his eyes left and right, until he found something unexpected by the root of a tree, about a few feet away. It was small and red, adorned with pink butterflies and rainbows; with white long laces attached to its seams.

Shoelaces, to be exact.

It was a shoe.

His nose was throbbing because of a bloody _shoe._

"Hey mister!"

The voice startled him. He glanced up and what he saw had caused his eyebrows to rise so high, that they disappeared into his hairline.

There she was, a little girl with a frown on her tiny face, probably by the age of four or five – she's a tiny little fellow – perched on the edge of a tree branch, which itself was at least seven feet tall from the ground. She had huge brown eyes and her hair was braided, the colour was brown, with a slight reddish tint to it. She was wearing a pink dress with red tights underneath.

"Can you give me back my shoe, please?"

As he would have guessed, one of her feet was missing a shoe.

"Was that your shoe?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, it's Oprah's."

His eyes widen. Had this four-year-old just sassed him?

"How old are you?"

"Four."

He hummed, his assumption was right. "You know, that's quite rude for someone who's expecting others to do them a favour."

"I'm not rude. I was being sarcastic."

"Why?"

"If you don't want a stupid answer, might as well don't ask a stupid question!"

"I'm pretty sure you were being just plain rude."

"No-"

He raised his eyebrow.

"-Yeah."

He frowned. "How did your shoe ended up on my face?"

The little girl shrugged. "I must've didn't tie it properly just now."

He nodded, understanding the frustrations of tying your shoe laces. No matter how good you are at knots, no matter how tight you pulled the lace together, it would always come off loose. You have to stop doing whatever it was you were doing, and bend down on one knee, just to tie a bloody knot. Shoelaces are a burden, especially for the ones who are extremely lazy; hence that is why most of his shoes have straps.

He had far more better things to do than attempting bunny ears every five seconds.

But then, something struck him in his head.

"Why are you on top of that tree?"

For some reason, even though he just met her, talking to her make him feel at ease. This little girl had a tongue that's quicker than a snake and she's much more articulate than any other children of her age that he had encountered. Whoever this child belong to, her parents must be really proud of her.

"I like trees. They calm me down." He could sense the lie in her voice, but for some reason, he let it slide.

"Okay, but that doesn't explain how you got to be up on a tree-"

"Correction. I'm on a tree _branch-"_

"Get down from there!"

"I like it up here just the way it is, thank you very much!"

"How did you get up there?"

The girl hesitated, shifting herself from left to right.

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Be-because you're a stranger!" Another lie; he could tell. "My mum said that I should never talk to strangers."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, you are stuck and this stranger is trying to help you. Now, tell me how you got there!"

"I'm not stuck! I can come down just fine, thank you very much."

"Alright, then can you at least explain how did you manage to reach that high?

"I told you before; I can't tell you." Her eyes pleading to him with desperation.

"Look, kid-"

"My name is not _kid-"_

Ignoring her at her last jibe, he continued. "Look, kid. I'll be honest with you, alright? I'm a fire fighter. Putting out fire from a high place is my thing. Saving people from trees, if you haven't noticed or you're just plain ignorant, is also one of the many things that fire fighters have to do and-"

"I thought you only do that to cats-"

"And _I_," he interjected, "as a man of my word will do my job when the situation calls for it. Now, tell me how did you-?"

"Do fire fighters work in the weekends too?"

He was taken aback. "What?"

"I mean, it's the weekends, so I'm pretty sure that everybody is allowed to a little break once in a while."

"Kid, fire happens every day. It doesn't matter what day it is, it's always happening."

"Then why are you here?"

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You. Fire fighter. Here. Park. You said that fire happens every day, yet here you are."

"I was given a day off. Can't go to the fire brigade, lest I'll be sacked for working too much."

"Then, how are you going to put out fire if you're here and not there?"

"I'm not the only fire fighter, you know!"

"Really?"

He was about to answer her, to call her out for being annoying, but paused. He realised what she was trying to do, she was trying to distract him. She's dodging his question so hopefully he would forget it. How is he supposed to do that when he's witnessing the unthinkable?

Why is she trying so hard to _not_ answer his question?

"You're trying to change the subject! Stop trying to change the topic! We were talking about how you got onto a tree branch-"

"Why would you want to know? I mean, you only have to save me, you don't have to find out how I got here."

Damn, she got a point. He was literally out of words, and her smirking doesn't help matter at all. She saw a chance to prove him wrong, and she bloody well took it, turning the tables on him. She's a lot smarter than he thought.

Why _did _he want to know? Maybe it's because of the notion of a four-year-old sitting on a tree branch that's seven foot high without any help whatsoever unnerved him?

Blimey, even _he_ can't do that!

Then, he had caught onto something she said, and took it as his ticket to turn the tables on _her._

"So you _do_ need help?"

The little girl's face crinkled in confusion. "What?"

"You just said that the only thing that I have to do is to save you. Now I don't know what that means, but I'm pretty sure that's a clear invite for my help."

The girl frowned. Just because she's quick with her tongue, doesn't mean she can process the things that were said to her just as fast. She is, after all, a four-year-old. When she finally caught on, however, she retaliated with such stubbornness; one would think she's older than she actually is.

"I don't need your help; I can come down on my own!"

"Really," He smirked.

"Yes," she said, her chin jutted upwards in defiance.

"Alright then, I'm pretty sure you can take care of yourself, seeing as you were the one who got yourself onto that tree branch."

"Exactly."

"Oh, in that case, I'll just leave you alone then."

Her defiant posture faltered a little bit, but she hid it so well he almost didn't see it. "Fine."

_Five._

He whistled a funny tune – something he just came up with on the spot, it doesn't even have a rhythm – and turned around.

_Four._

He walked away slowly, trying to drag out as much time as he can. She's staring at him; he could practically feel it. Any minute now, she'll call him back. He knew she will.

_Three._

He pretended to be distracted by the ducks near the lake, and walked further away from the tree, away from her.

_Two._

He panicked for a second, but his anxiety was all for naught.

_One._

"Wait! Don't go!"

He smirked. _Right on cue._

He glanced at her over his left shoulder, and merely raised his eyebrow.

She glared at him, but she didn't say anything. Glancing for side to side, she still wouldn't admit that she needed his help.

So, he decided to help her out.

"Do you need something?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely."

Taking a deep breath; she let it out with a sigh of annoyance. "Can you please help me down from here?"

He smirked. "See? That's not so hard, isn't it?"

She chose to ignore that last statement, and replied, "So, how are you going to get me down from here? Unless you have a ladder, I don't think you would want to risk your life by climbing this tree."

"Well, you've already done that, and I'm not stupid enough to do that."

"I'm not stupid!"

"Never said that."

"Well, you implied."

He smiled in amusement. It's wrong to rile up a four-year-old, he realised, but he couldn't help it. She's so cute when she frown.

Making his decision to pull her out of her misery, he said, "Jump."

"What?"

"Jump."

"Jump?"

"Did I stutter?"

"You want me to jump?"

"Yes, I believe I said that."

He couldn't help it, he laughed. Her face looked like as if she just swallowed a whole lemon; a huge grimace froze with an agape mouth.

"Mum's right. I shouldn't have talked to strangers, already have I met one and he's trying to kill me."

"I'm not trying to kill you. I'm doing my job. Now, just jump onto my arms and I'll catch you."

"How am I suppose to know that you're not going to hurt me later on?"

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I don't know. What if you're a crazy pheedofiile-"

"Paedophile?"

"Yeah, that."

He scowled. "God, no! I'm not some crazy pervert that preys on children! You're stuck on a tree! I'm trying to help you! So please, stop with the annoying questions and just jump!"

He didn't see it coming.

She landed on his chest, making him stumble backwards to the ground. Thankfully, he landed on his back, instead of his head, but it still hurt. He wheezed and puffed, taking as much air as he could with a little girl on his chest, thanking the lords of his training, making his pain less bearable as he restrained himself from groaning.

"Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Uh oh. Did I hurt you?"

"No. I'm perfectly fine," he managed to wheeze out.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." After a weighty pause between them, he cleared his throat. "But I would appreciate it if you can get off of me."

Her brown eyes widen, and apologised. She pushed herself off of his chest, pressing her tiny hands onto his chest, making him feel even more uncomfortable as she squeezed all of the air in his lungs out, making it harding for him to breathe. This time he did groan, but not in pain; but because of the lack of oxygen.

"Don't...push...chest. Can't...breathe-"

The little girl hastily removed her hands and leaned to the side, her balance betrayed her as she fell down on her shoulder. She cried out at the sudden pain, wincing as she clutched it to hold off the pain.

Concerned, he sat up, flinching as he breaks out the kinks on his back. "Are you alright there, buddy?"

"Yeah. Just hit my shoulder, I'm okay."

"You're sure?"

She nodded. "Yep."

He smirked. "Well, we've been through a lot of accidents as of late, and I for one, am getting tired of them."

He lifted himself on his feet and held out his hand, to which the little girl accepts. He pulled her upwards, then proceeds to carry her on his hip; balancing her with one arm. Despite the impact she had caused when she jumped on him, she was really light.

Catching her eye, he spoke. "Come, let's find your shoe."

~.~

He hates ice cream.

Really, he does.

He has no idea why, but something about them just doesn't feel right. He hated it when it trickled down his throat if it starts to melt - sticky on his shirt; he hated the mushy taste in his mouth. Really, it's just frozen milk with some cream. It's no more different then flavoured milk.

Today though, he made an exception.

Myra (the little girl's name, she told him when he was tying her shoelace to make it firmer) insisted that they should get some ice cream, but when he was about to decline, she started to throw a tantrum. Apparently, no matter how mature she is, she can still be as hot-headed as any other four-year-olds in the world.

So, partly to avoid from getting stares from the pedestrians, partly because he doesn't want others to think he's some crazy prick out to behead the little girl, and partly because he was sick of her whining; he took her to nearest ice cream parlour which was conveniently a couple of streets from his work place.

She chose two scoops of strawberrry ice cream in a medium sized cup (she told him she couldn't stop the ice cream from dripping on her shirt if she used a cone, even when her life depends on it) with chocolate syrup and roasted almonds on the top. He simply opted for the vanilla ice cream in a cone, paid for them, and proceed to drag Myra towards the fire brigade.

It's obvious she is a lost child, her parents must have been worried sick about her. He would've given her his phone, to call her parents so they could pick her up, but he had accidentally left it by the fire brigade. Obviously they need to head there immediately, for the day is reaching its end, and the sooner she got to her parents; the better.

Because of the chilly air, the ice cream didn't melt like he thought it would. He just kept on licking, eyes straight ahead as he walked behind Myra; the ever cheerful one. If she sees a puddle, she would jump on it. If she sees a crack on the pavement, she would jump over it. He could pratically hear the nursery rhyme that she was probably reciting in her head;

_Step on a crack, would break your mother's back. Step on a crack, would break your mother's back._

They arrived at the fire brigade ten minutes later, the edges of her trousers were soaked through, and her cup was finished by the time they entered the huge builiding. He threw his cone halfway along the walk, feeling slightly disgusted when it dripped down on his hand, leaving him feel sticky and uncomfortable.

To say she was in awe was a complete understatement, her eyes widen at the bright red trucks parked by the entrance, making him smile smugly. To render this little girl (who had been talking non-stop ever since they've left the ice cream parlour) speechless, made him feel satisfied for some reason, knowing that she was fascinated by his job; even more so than the others.

She glanced from left to right, throwing questions here and there, to which he answered them with the same level of enthusiasm. They went to the tiny little lounge by the kitchen, where he knew he had left his phone there. Once he spotted it, he quickly turned it on, and hand it over to her.

"Here, call your parents. I'll be right back."

Once Myra took it from his hands, she pushed a few buttons and placed it by her ear. Apparently, she knew how to use a phone too, without any help whatsoever.

_What else can she do? _He wondered, completely bewildered at her ability to adapt so fast.

He went to the kitchen, surprised to see his co-workers there; each was sipping beer in one hand and a sandwich in the other. He couldn't hear any of them when he was by the lounge, thinking that they were probably out for an emergency (but then again, all of the fire trucks are here); they must have been really tired if they were this quiet.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you suppose to take the week off?"

Ryan, a tall man with green eyes, raised his eyebrows in question. The others looked at him expectantly, waiting for his reply.

"Yeah, about that, I found a lost girl by the park, and I wanted to give her my phone so that she could call her parents, but I left it here so I brought her here instead. You wouldn't mind that, would you?"

Ryan said, "Drake, that's the worse excuse I've heard from ya'. Just say that you're gonna shag her later, nobody's gonna judge you. I mean, everybody know how much of a womanizer you can be." Chuckling at his own comment, he took a long sip from his beer bottle-

He scowled. "She's four years old."

-and promptly spit it back out.

He raised his eyebrow, "Unless I'm a paedophile, or you just have a very sick mind, I'm pretty sure touching a little girl like that is the last thing I want to do right now."

Completely embarassed, Ryan's face turned red from the tip of his jaw all the way up to the roots of his hair. The others laughed at him, slapping each other on the knee at his faux pas.

Liam, the mature one of the group, had ceased everyone from laughing even further, taking pity on Ryan as he spluttered nervously under his glare.

"So, where is she?" Liam asked.

"Somewhere by the lounge, possibly talking to her mum. I did say that I was going to lend her my phone."

Suddenly, a slightly short, stubby man with a gruffy stubble sauntered into the kitchen.

"Is it just me, or is there a four-year-old playing chess with Moriarty?"

"What?" He couldn't believe it.

"There's a little girl playing chess with Moriarty, and by the looks of it; she's winning."

Everybody scrambled to their feet hastily, wanting to see this for themselves. They made their way to the lounge, and was surprised to see that the man was right.

Moriarty was by far, the best chess player of the fire brigade. He had always managed to beat everybody in chess when there's time to play and he never lose. So, to see him so flustered in front of the four-year-old made them feel agitated, surely he could manage himself, right?

Moriarty stared at the chess board, trying to figure out a move without the little girl turning it into a trap of her own. Myra just stared, waiting for him to make his next move. Moriarty then made a small noise of victory and moved his knight to the left, positioning it right in front of the king. He didn't realise his mistake until it was too late.

Myra's queen was right in front of it, and since that there's no more of his chess pieces to get in her way; she dragged her queen forward to the knight's place, successfully throwing it out of the board.

"Check."

Moriarty began to sweat. He need to rack through his brain for a yet another strategy to blow Myra off. He then made a switch between his king and rook, moving it further away from her queen.

Myra frowned. That might be a problem for her.

Upon seeing her frown, Moriarty smiled. Maybe with a little luck, she would give up and admit defeat.

Nobody made a sound.

Her eyes scanned on the board for any possible moves, but was sadden when she couldn't find one.

Moriarty's smile grew bigger, time had passed and still, she hadn't made a move.

Everybody watched silently, nobody dares to make any sudden movement.

She was still staring on the board, knowing that if she doesn't act now, they might think that she was surrendering. And then, she found something of her advantage. Of course, why didn't she think of it before? She moved her queen to the rook's place, and as it was being thrown away, there are no more pieces left for him to protect his king. Since there are no more moves for him, and his lost was evitable, she smirked.

"Checkmate."

~.~

After the uproar that happened earlier, (Moriarty was protesting about him losing, while the others congratulated Myra for being a good sport) some of them went back to the kitchen, some had retired to the beds upstairs, and some of them (the married ones or the ones that could afford) went back home. It was just Myra, Liam and himself at the lounge now, watching Peppa Pig on the television as they help themselves with pizza and Coke.

"So tell me," Liam started, sipping onto his can, "where do you learn how to play chess like that?"

Myra smiled. "My uncle. He's very good in chess, but it's a shame that no one likes him."

"Why is that?"

"Well, we do love him, but most girls can't stay in the same room as him for too long. They'll either get bored, or offended by his...honesty."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. Mum said he has the emotional range of a teaspoon, and that his mouth has no filter."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. Mum also said he's an insensitive weasel, something she had called him once during one of their fights."

"They fight?"

"Mhmm. Though it's not explosive, it's more of a...banter. It's their way of talking to each other, it's weird. I know."

"How old are you?"

She held up four fingers.

"You're four? Seriously?"

"Mhmm."

"You're very smart for a four-year-old."

She smirked, clearly proud of herself. "Thank you."

Liam's phone rang, interrupting their little conversation. He stood up and apologised; he needed to take the call somewhere private. As Liam walked away from them, he sat nearer to Myra.

"So, who did you call?"

"My mum. She said she'll be here, though I'm not so sure if she knew the exact address."

"I'm sure she knows where this place is. It's the only fire brigade for miles."

"You're probably right."

They watched a commercial break concerning about healthy crackers, and instantly got bored again.

She asked, "You know, I didn't get your name."

"Pardon?"

"Yeah, your name. You didn't tell me what it is."

He took a deep breath and let it out, he was hoping that she wouldn't ask. He's not exactly proud of his name like he used too, it's tainted with scorn and hatred among his world; a world he would never see again.

'Well, you see, I-"

He stopped himself when he saw Liam, whose hair was tousled, as he'd been raking his fingers through them. Knowing him, he probably did. He released a sigh in relief when Liam crossed the room towards them, even though there are chances that she wouldn't recognise him in any shape or form, but he wasn't all too excited to reveal his name just yet.

Liam kissed Myra's hair and pinky-promised her that they would meet together soon, and went back home to his family (his daughter has the severe case of an ear infection). He almost expected her to ask his name again, but apparently she had forgotten about it when she was talking to Liam.

He let out another sigh. Well, at least he could finish his pizza in peace.

~.~

They were watching re-runs of Tom &amp; Jerry when they heard her voice.

"Myra? Myra! Are you there?"

Myra's face lit up and smiled. She climbed onto the sofa and leaned forward to its cushions, squealing in delight. She jumped down and ran around the sofa. He heard a grunt and a gasp in delight before he turned around, and was greeted by the sight of a brunette twirling Myra in her arms in a circle. He could only guess that she was Myra's mum, if the smile on her face was any indication.

The woman set her down and proceed to kiss Myra all over her face, making her giggle once in a while. With her back on him, and Myra facing his person, he leaned against the sofa and watched.

The woman pulled back and said, "Oh god, you're alive."

"Of course I'm alive, mummy. We just talked to each other through the phone not thirty minutes ago."

Her mum chuckled. "I guess you're right. I'm just so happy that I found you."

She hugged Myra with all her might, Myra squeezing her back with equal fervour. "I miss you."

"I missed you too, mummy."

Her mum pulled back and said, "Don't you ever run away from me like that again. Understand?"

Myra nodded furiously.

He cleared his throat loudly, to catch the attention of the ladies in front of him. Both of them jolted in shock, as they had just realised that they were not alone.

Myra smiled at him. With her eyes still on him, "Mum, this is the man that I told you about. The fire fighter? He was the one who saved me from that tree."

Her mum stood up, and turned around saying, "Right, my apologies. Maybe I should've thank y-"

She stopped mid-sentence once she finally faced him, the recognition in her eyes made her speechless. He was not faring well himself; his smirk dropped immediately once he saw her face.

Staring into the familiar brown eyes, he realised something.

He was trained by a governess –a little old fashioned, but his family is nothing but traditional – on how to control his magic at the age of five when he was caught by one of his parents in the kitchen as he levitated a few of their house elves up in the air, giggling madly at his accomplishment. Each of them were scared for their lives, yet pleased that they could thrill their young master.

Children with magic, because of their tender age, can sometimes be a bit too headstrong to control their powers. Their stubbornness can cause outbursts of uncontrolled magic, often called by most as 'accidental wandless magic'. Even though children with magic would fully develop at the age of eleven, the possibility for a child to show such ability can still be a recurring occurrence.

He had come to understand why Myra couldn't tell him about how she got up onto that tree. For she was a witch; an _under-aged _witch.

For Draco Malfoy had comprehended that there is more about Myra than it meets the eye as he stared at the very eyes of her mother, Hermione Granger.

~.~

**So, what do you think? Write down your reviews, send in some love! Looking forward to hear from you :) **

**If you're wondering why Lyra is so articulate, compare to most four-year-olds, she's inspired by my four-year-old cousin, who literally talks like she did. It still amazed me, besides; she's Hermione's child. You have to give her credit for that.**

**It's a little rusty, I've to admit, but I'm trying my best to write this on my tab, as my laptop charger broke down and I have yet to buy a new one, so please bear with me if there's any mistakes :) Feel free to point them out though, I wouldn't mind.**

**By the way, I've read this fanfic about Draco being blind before. It's M rated, and it's here, but for the love of monkeys I can't remember what's the title. Would you mind sending me a link if you happen to know? Thanks in advance!**

**Don't forget to review. It's my crack.**


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